


67

by iheartallthefandoms



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Boys Being Silly, Canon, Fluff, Football, Grinding, M/M, Mentions of Sex, a bit of grinding, and dirty talk, even though Louis tried to take it there, louis is naughty, no actual smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 20:30:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5884294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iheartallthefandoms/pseuds/iheartallthefandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why does Louis have so many footballs? Inspired by Louis' football Instagram video.</p>
            </blockquote>





	67

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired after I watched Louis' instagram video with him playing football. Some wonderful person counted all his footballs, and I wanted to write a fic to explain why he had so many... it got away from me a bit, it was originally only 700 words!
> 
> Many thanks to my friend S who is a 1D fan, a barely Larrie, and not a fic reader! She offered to read this over for me and listened to me ramble about it for weeks!! You're the best!!

67

“67 fucking balls? Why the fuck do you need 67 fucking footballs?” Harry threw up his hands, looking at Louis’ stash in the small closet off the living room.

“I just really like footie,” Louis responded, giggling softly. Harry’s face was priceless. He looked so shocked and confused.

“I knew that, you adorable idiot.” Harry took a deep breath, shaking his head. “But why do you need so many balls?” He gestured to the dozens of footballs surrounding them in the little room.

“I’ll have you know I just really like balls,” Louis shot back, fighting a cheeky grin.

“Oh, believe me, I know that too,” Harry’s eyes darkened, a full grin finally on his face.

Louis’ hand flew to his mouth, feigned shock crossing his features. “Harold, honestly, think of the children!”

“What children? There are no kids here!” Harry protested.

Louis scoffed. “You can’t speak of things like,” Louis lowered his voice, “the _sex_ around Niall and Liam. They’re just too innocent, too pure.”

“Liam? Pure? I mean, Niall’s a church boy, we all know that, but Liam is not pure. I’ve seen him and Sophia after shows. Downright dirty, they are,” Harry snorted, flabbergasted at Louis’ dramatics.

“Hey!” came a chorus of protests from the aforementioned boys.

“Sorry boys, just a tease, honest,” Louis giggled again, tugging at his shirt.

“Right,” Harry added. He turned his attention back to Louis. “Stop avoiding my questions. Why the hell do you have 67 footballs?”

Louis pointed to the display shelves on the far wall. “Well, those are from me mum,” he pointed to an older, worn-looking blue one and a Doncaster Rovers ball.

The next one on the shelf was a bright lime green. “That’s from Stan, birthday gift, years ago.”

“Those merch ones are signed by the boys.” One was covered in their faces, the other had ‘1D’ in various fonts in some weird pattern.

“And that one has rainbows.”

He then nodded to one in the middle of the bunch. “And, obviously, you gave me that one,” he trailed off, a look of disbelief on Harry’s face.

“You have reasons?” he asked. “For all of them?”

A look of confusion momentarily flashed across Louis’ face. “Well, yeah. Why else would I have 67 of them?”

“Honestly, I had no idea, Lou.” Harry said in disbelief. “I was starting to think it was a hoarding problem, and that’s when I thought we were just talking fifteen or twenty balls. 67 is a whole other ballgame.” He grinned, pleased with the pun he’d finally been able to work in.

“Haz!” Louis groaned. “Seriously?”

“Can’t blame me, babe, it was too good to pass up.” Harry grinned wider.

“Right. Whatever.” Louis rolled his eyes.

“So you have so many because they’re important?” Harry questioned.

“Yeah,” Louis said. “And, you know, I’m lazy. I don’t want to practice with only one ball. Takes too long to chase it down when I’m by myself. So usually I take out five or six, so I’m not running all over the pitch to collect them.” It was one of the best parts of being filthy rich, being able to spend your money to become even lazier.

“I see.” Harry was surprised, he was expecting to find that his footie-obsessed fiancé had no real reason for owning 67 footballs. But, considering the tiny closet had an entire wall to display footballs, it shouldn’t have been that surprising.

“Plus, it’s not like I use all of these to practice with. Maybe only like half of them. Some of them are too special to be used. ‘Ts why they’re on the shelves and not on the floor or in a tub.”

Harry looked around the little room they were in. He didn’t spend much time in here, obviously, since it was a closet. He only ever came in to quickly grab a ball, not usually bothering to turn on the light. He was rarely in the mood to kick one around anyway, it was just too much work to go chase it down every five seconds. Louis had a point about that.

The room was sparsely decorated- a few old Donny Rovers posters and a shirtless David Beckham hung on the warm tan walls. But, the entire back wall was lined with shelves, filled with all kinds of footballs. The ones Lou had described earlier were there, including one ball in every color, arranged in rainbow color.

Louis was shifting back and forth, watching Harry in nervously. He knew that 67 balls was a lot, way more than any sane person would have, but he was a bloody rich popstar. He was allowed his eccentricities and he was sentimental as fuck.

“Wow, Lou,” Harry breathed.

Louis ran a hand over the back of his neck and through his hair. “So you don’t think I’m crazy?” he asked.

“Oh you’re definitely crazy,” Harry giggled. “But you’re my crazy, and that’s all that really matters.” He drew his boy into his arms and kissed the top of his head.

“Love you, Lou.”

“Love you too, Haz.” Groans were heard from the next room.

“You bastards are so bloody sappy,” Niall called out.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Why do we allow them to come over?”

“Fuck if I know, bloody annoying to have to kick them out whenever I want to fuck you,” Louis whispered, his voice deepening with the tease. He smirked, watching Harry’s eyes darken and his grip on Louis’ arm tighten.

“Lou,” he whined. “We were having a moment, and now I’m distracted.”

Louis grinned. Any time he could distract Harry was his favorite time. “I’ll make it up to you, babe,” he leaned in to whisper in Harry’s ear, “later.”

“Sure you can’t make it up to me now? I’ll make it worth your while.” Harry leaned in, attaching his lips to Louis’ neck, sucking a dark mark just below his ear.

“No, Hazza, the boys are in the next room,” Louis’ voice trailed off, eyes fluttering shut. Harry tilted his hips towards Louis, letting him feel the semi he was already sporting.

“Fuck, Lou, please?” He ground his crotch into Louis, trying to take advantage of the friction and convince Louis to get him off. Harry’s eyes blazed, and he drew Louis into a scorching kiss.

“Haz,” Louis moaned. What had started as an innocent tease was turning dirty fast.

“Those better not be sex sounds I’m hearing,” Liam yelled out. Louis swore under his breath, adjusting himself.

“Damn it, Liam,” Harry yelped. He dropped his head on Louis’ shoulder. “Fuck, Lou, promise you’ll make it up to me later?”

“Of course, always, babe.” Louis promised. “Now, let’s stop scarring the boys. Wanna go play footie?”

“I guess,” Harry grinned. “I’ve got to get my mind off of this.” He gestured down at his cock, which was still very much interested in the fit fiancé tucked under his chin. Harry kissed Louis softly once again, willing his erection to go down. They stepped back a bit, both trying to calm down before joining their best mates.

Harry called out to the living room, “Niall, Liam? Up for some real footie instead of FIFA?”

“You’re on!” Liam hollered. Niall and Liam peeled themselves off the sofa and bounded to the closet. They each grabbed a few balls and trotted out to the pitch in the back garden.

“Larry versus Niam!” Niall challenged, grinning. “We’re so winning!”

“On your life, Horan,” Louis shot back.

A few hours later, they fell on the sofa in a tired, sweaty pile of limbs, giggling over Harry’s last shot. He’d completely missed the goal and had somehow ended up flat on his back. Louis had sent him a smoldering look, causing Niall, who caught the end of it when Louis was licking his lips, to groan and run away, declaring their game over.

They had deposited the eleven footballs they’d used back into the little closet and collapsed, tangled together.

“Nialler,” Louis whined, “’m thirsty.”

“And?”

“And there’s beers in the fridge,” Louis tried pulling a puppy dog face, but he was too tired to really put any effort into it.

“So? You’re the host, man, you get them.” Niall did not look bothered by Louis’ half-arsed attempts at gathering sympathy.

“Don’t wanna move.”

“Lazy arse,” Liam chimed in.

“Hazza, my love,” Louis batted his eyelashes at his fiancé.

“Yeah, yeah, you bum.” Harry rolled his eyes and untangled himself from the group. “Beers coming up.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon playing FIFA and snacking on whatever Harry found in their fridge. Louis was glad that he had found the friends he had, all sweaty and smushed together on the same sofa, limbs tangled together, and without a care in the world. They’d leave all the pop star business to the next day. Today was for the two idiots he deemed his brothers and the man he was lucky enough to call the love of his life.

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hit me up on tumblr if you want- I'm iheartallthefandoms.


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